It was mid-morning at The Open Door, a ministry in Western NC to the marginalized and disenfranchised that I was privileged to direct for 16 years before coming to Kings Mountain. One of our family of friends entered my office and asked to use my phone. Unfortunately, like a growing number of those we ministered to, he suffered from a severe case of mental challenges. His condition left him with rather bizarre behavior that caused those around him to be disconcerted, if not downright afraid. It had also caused him to be limited in his ability to converse with others in a normal, socially accepted way, often talking with physical gestures, sign language, and one-word comments that are only fully understood by him. For the purposes of anonymity, we will call him Fred. Fred had been removed from several area businesses because of his inability to function in a way that didn’t seem threatening to mainstream America.
On this particular day, Fred’s request was to use the phone. I helped him find a local apartment complex which he proceeded to call. I sat in utter amazement as I heard him articulate his thoughts with unusual clarity. Although I could only hear his side of the conversation, I could read between the lines to discern what questions he was being asked by management. Then suddenly, after a brief moment of hesitation, I heard him answer, “homeless.” Abruptly, the conversation ended and he handed me the phone with a look of rejection on his face. I said, “Fred, what happened?” I received the anticipated answer, “He said he doesn’t rent to homeless people and hung up on me!”
I tried very inadequately to offer words of comfort and then Fred left my office. I struggled the rest of the day and into the evening with what I had witnessed in my office. I was still in turmoil when I entered The Open Door the next day so I invited Fred back into the office and said, “Fred, what can I do to help?” He gave me his one-word answer, “Apartment.” I said, “Do you want me to call the apartment for you?” He said, “Yes.”
I asked Fred to step into the dining room and told him that I would speak to him shortly. I took a deep breath and pondered the seemingly impossible task before me. I made the call and the apartment manager answered and I introduced myself. I felt a sudden sign of relief when he said, “Oh yeah, Perry, I know you.” I knew that the battle had only begun. Something still had to happen to convince him to give a homeless person a chance.
I asked for a meeting with him to discuss a person who was in desperate need of a place to stay, explaining that he had income to cover his rent but was running out of luck in finding a home.
He reiterated that he steered clear of renting to homeless people, but agreed to meet me the next day to give me a hearing. I told Fred not to lose hope, that I was still working on finding him a home away from the bitter realities of the street.
As planned, the next day found me face to face with the apartment manager who had certainly appeared to be a “tough egg to crack.” I made up my mind that I would be totally honest and hold back nothing as I shared Fred’s story. I explained that though I believed that Fred was not a violent person, I could not predict human behavior and I knew the unusual, and yes, even bizarre way in which he presented himself could be frightening to other tenants in the apartments around him, but I would love to see him be given a chance. I committed myself to the manager to stand beside him and assist him with Fred if issues arose.
Then there was an unexpected turn of events that took place. The manager told me that when he woke up that morning, the first thing he saw on T.V. was this picture that went viral of the police officer placing a newly purchased pair of boots on a homeless man in New York City. He said, “Something just spoke to me and said, maybe I should give this homeless man a chance. After all, I have had others give me a chance when I was down.”
By this time the adrenaline rush was unbelievably pulsating through my body as I came back to The Open Door to pick up Fred for the “official” introduction to what would be his newfound landlord. They met each other and even with Fred’s unusual characteristics, there was a sense in the apartment office that this match was made in heaven. When the manager spoke to me alone after his meeting with Fred he expressed his exuberance in a way that I don’t think I have ever heard. This large, somewhat intimidating man said, “I am just tingling all over about my decision to give Fred a chance.”
In conclusion, all I can say is “Welcome home Fred!” I suppose I can say to this apartment manager “Welcome home as well,” because he discovered a warm comfortable place inside his own heart that he needed to connect with that must have felt like home as he had opened a door that prejudice and distrust had shut.
Perry Hines
Gastonia District Presiding Elder